


wake with coffee in the morning

by StarAmongStones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, non-explicit reference to past kate argent abuse/manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarAmongStones/pseuds/StarAmongStones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t want to get your hopes up or anything, but I make the worst coffee ever.”</p><p>“Well, with an offer like that, how could I refuse?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	wake with coffee in the morning

Stiles sweeps his left hand across the bed, groggily lifting his head off his pillow when he finds the sheets cold to confirm that, yep, he's alone. In someone else's bed. Awesome.

Well, at least Derek wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes to reject him. Sure, some may call that cowardly, and rant about what kind of asshole tells someone they don’t want to kiss you because you’ve been drinking – even though you’re tipsy at most – and they want it to _mean_ something, only to sneak out quietly in the morning and hope you get the hint. But not Stiles. No, sir.

Stiles sighs into the pillow.

Okay, so he was rejected. That’s nothing new, nothing he can’t handle. He’ll just eat a huge breakfast, maybe take a bunch of food with him, and leave a note to all of Derek’s frat brothers that the next round of groceries is on Derek.

Really, though, his only slightly bitter feelings are purely righteous. He had no idea Derek would even be at Mathsgiving – a yearly event for the math T.A.s to celebrate Thanksgiving before everyone leaves to spend actual Thanksgiving with their actual families. A.K.A. a chance for everyone to drink themselves stupid before they have to pretend they don’t already drink in front of their parents. He was only at the party last night because Scott had needed a designated driver. Scott was having a really difficult semester, and with the times he has taken care of Stiles’ drunken ass, he felt he owed it to his friend.

“Alright, man. We don’t have to stay long,” Scott had promised. “I know it’ll probably be boring for you, since you don’t know anyone. An hour, tops.”

Three hours later, Scott was doing body shots off his friend Isaac’s stomach, and Stiles had wandered up the stairs of the Alpha Sigma Epsilon frat house to get away from the very loud drunken shenanigans.

Shaking away the memory, Stiles slips out of bed and into his jeans while resolutely not looking at the family photo on the dresser in front of him. The photo that Derek had caught him staring at last night, which led to their first real conversation that didn’t end in anyone yelling or storming off. Sure, there had been glimpses of a connection before then - Derek would laugh at something Stiles had said, or Stiles would find himself surprisingly amused by Derek's dry wit on occasion - but then one of them would inevitably ruin it with a stupid comment that sent them right back to sniping at each other. Last night, though, the photo spurred Derek on to open up about his family. Stiles couldn't very well say something argument-worthy about the guy's dead relatives, so he had instead countered with his own stories about him mom to someone other than Scott or his dad for the first time in years. The next thing he knew it was three hours later and he was drifting off with a solid line of heat tucked in closely against his back.

He is absolutely thinking about none of that as he reaches for the door handle, and tiptoes into the hallway. Stiles’ plan to quickly slip in and out of the kitchen is completely shattered when he rounds the corner to find Derek of all people look back at him from the breakfast island.

“Morning,” Derek says with a tentative smile.

After gaping for a moment, Stiles blurts, “I thought you’d changed your mind.”

Derek looks confused as he sets down his mug, and closes the lid to his laptop. “No, I haven’t changed my mind,” he says slowly. Then, he sits up straighter, like he’s steeling himself for something. “Have you?”

“No!” Stiles practically shouts, and winces at Derek’s startled expression. “I just mean, I thought you had. But I still-” he trails off when he realizes that he has absolutely no idea what’s on the table here.

Despite the non-answer, Derek seems to get it.

“Do you want any coffee?” he asks as he walks over to busy himself with the coffee machine. The question sounds awkward, like he’s shooting for breezy and missed it by miles, but he also sounds like he’s trying. After a pause, he continues, “I don’t want to get your hopes up or anything, but I make the worst coffee ever.”

It takes Stiles a minute to realize that Derek is trying to make a joke. He’s not surprised by the joke itself, because Derek is actually pretty funny, but the fact that he’s not letting Stiles down gently is totally throwing him for a loop.

“Well, with an offer like that, how could I refuse?” Stiles doesn’t even try to tamp down the tentative hope he can feel taking hold just below his ribcage.

Evidently, something in his voice gives him away because the tension in Derek’s shoulders melts somewhat when he reaches for a mug, pot in hand.

“Do you mind if I grab the creamer?” Stiles asks, pointing at the fridge even though Derek’s back is still to him. He opens the refrigerator door and freezes. God he hates this: the awkward first time in someone else’s house, when you don’t know what’s okay and what’s off-limits. It’s even worse with multiple roommates because he has no idea who’s laid claim to what.

“Let me get mine for you.” Derek replaces the pot, and brings the steaming cup over to Stiles. As Stiles reaches for it, though, Derek pulls his hand back and leans in instead. The kiss is brief, a little off-center, with just a bit too much pressure from Derek’s end. And it is glorious.

“I didn’t change my mind,” Derek reaffirms. “I just wanted you to be able to fully consent. My last girlfriend-” Derek clears his throat, hands over the mug, and turns to open the fridge. “I didn’t know what I was doing, and she took advantage of that. I can’t be the one taking advantage.”

“You’re not,” Stiles says gently. He takes the creamer from Derek to set it and his mug on the counter before leaning in to Derek’s space again. Stiles takes his time seeking Derek’s lips out, letting the moment play out in its own time. He pulls back before he gives into the urge to nibble a bit on Derek’s upper lip, just to see what kind of reaction he would get. That, and he has a bit of an oral fixation and enjoys biting things. Whatever. He pulls back just far enough to say, “This is me fully, whole-heartedly, soberly consenting.”

“Good,” Derek nods. As he takes his seat again, a small smile flits across his lips.

Stiles answers with a nod and a grin of his own, settling easily into the stool right next to Derek. He stirs in enough cream and sugar to take down a horse, and takes a big gulp of sweet, merciful caffeine that he has to try very hard to actually swallow because oh my god.

“Is it good?” Derek asks. He’s not even trying to hide his amusement. Why does Stiles like him again?

 The thing is, Stiles’ father raised him right. He knows he should be polite, and drink what was offered to him.

“You weren’t kidding,” he says instead. “This is literally the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. And my aunt used to make me eat pickled pig's feet with her at Thanksgiving.” He is definitely the way he is in spite of his dad’s better efforts.

Derek thankfully just huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, it takes some getting used to. It has its perks, though.”

“Like what?” Stiles asks, watching Derek dump the offensive beverage down the sink and put the mug in the dishwasher.

“I’m basically banned from making coffee, which means that everyone else has to make it for me.”

“Sneaky. I like it,” Stiles laughs delightedly.

With a nod to the front door, he says, “Come on, let’s get you some real coffee.”

“Bless you and your beautiful ideas,” Stiles says, hopping off his stool to follow Derek outside.

It strikes him suddenly how weird it is that he doesn’t feel weirder about this whole thing. He had literally punched a wall in his apartment out of sheer frustration after his first meeting with Derek (the bruises were absolutely worth it), and now he is genuinely enjoying spending time with the guy.

Stiles quickly kisses Derek once more before Derek can duck into his car, just to check, but nope. No weirdness. It just feels really nice.

“Okay, you may proceed,” Stiles motions towards the driver’s seat before he circles around to the passenger side.

Derek snorts, but otherwise does not question Stiles. Letting Stiles get what he wants is his favorite method of interaction with others, so he smiles contentedly as Derek back out of the driveway.

And the next time they sleep together, Derek is still tucked in behind Stiles in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever noticed that people who drink coffee talk aboiut drinking coffee constantly? I'm sorry; I am that person. 
> 
> Forgive me for any mistakes because this is unbeta'd (though that may change if my lovely current beta gets some free time). Also, title comes from Cold Coffee by Ed Sheeran because as unimaginative as ever.
> 
> Um, I also have a [tumblr](http://kirayaykimura.tumblr.com) if you've got nothing better to do. Or if you have a prompt, or even a headcanon (I love headcanons, come chat about them).


End file.
